


Taking Wing

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-03-27
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never expected to find enjoyment in Gabriel's company, but somehow, in the months since Sam's sacrifice and Gabriel's resurrection soon after, they've inexplicably become friends. But Dean still harbors too much hurt and anger and resentment, both toward Heaven and toward himself, and when a hunt goes badly wrong, Gabriel's desperate gamble to save his life leaves Dean fighting both the archangel and his own inner demons.</p><p>Gabriel has his work cut out for him, trying to get past Dean's defenses all over again, and when he finally does, he still has more work to do. Because then, he has to teach Dean how to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was only a few days ago, Dean remembers, that Lisa quietly brought up the possibility that he could be suffering from PTSD. He'd been out in the driveway, working on the truck and ignoring the sweat dripping into his eyes in the too-warm bright June sun. She'd handed him a beer as she'd said it, her eyes tracking as he'd popped the cap and taken several deep swigs.

He hadn't thought anything of it, of course. It's not the first time someone close to him has brought it up, and even if it's true, there's nothing anyone can do about it. It's not like there's a therapist that specializes in dealing with the apocalypse and watching your brother jump into Hell.

But standing here, staring at the battered archangel laid out on the guest room bed, Dean remembers Lisa's words, and her soft concern. _Dean_ , she'd said, _you're so distant. You're completely blocked off from the world around you. It's not healthy._

Dean stares at the display in front of him, and he feels nothing, and he thinks maybe she may have been right.

"What am I supposed to do with him?" he asks, not even bothering to turn and face the angel at his side.

"Please, Dean. Just take care of him," Castiel replies. "I cannot stay, and he's not well enough to be alone. If he has any hope of recovering…"

Dean owes Gabriel. It's not like he doesn't know that. Gabriel saved their lives by sacrificing his own, and he'd given them the key to stopping Lucifer. Dean sighs. "Fine, I'll talk to Lisa," he says. She won't be happy about another unexpected houseguest, but he doubts she'll put up a fuss. The wings, though…those may throw her. "Do I even want to know how you brought him back?"

"Probably not."

A hand presses down on Dean's shoulder, and finally, he turns to gaze at his friend. He feels so detached, meeting Castiel's blue eyes. Like there are things he should be feeling that he just can't. Or won't. "You know I'm a mess," he says, and can hear the way his voice sounds so unconcerned.

Castiel's eyes tighten, his hand squeezes. "Dean –"

"I'm just sayin'," Dean says, shrugging, as much to dislodge Castiel's hand as to show how little he really cares. "Gabriel would be better off probably anywhere else. If he wakes up, the last thing he's gonna want to deal with is a hunter who barely knows up from down anymore. Lisa's counting her blessings she can even get me out of bed most mornings."

Castiel is quiet for a long moment, his eyes sliding back to Gabriel. Dean sees that the archangel has started to tremble even in his unconscious state. His wings – or the ragged remnants of them – twitch, like he wants to curl them around himself but can't. Something inside Dean shifts at the sight, some emotion his has no name for rising in his throat. He swallows it down hastily.

"I think," Castiel finally says, "that is why this will work."

Too cryptic for Dean's taste, but then, Castiel usually is. And before Dean can try to get another word out of him, the angel is gone, nothing to mark his presence except for the brother he leaves behind.

Dean sighs again, running a hand tiredly through his too-long hair. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, contemplating the best course of action, and then goes to fetch a bowl of warm water and a washcloth.

Best to get Gabriel's wings clean while he's too out of it to feel the pain.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel wakes on the third day. He's barely able to do more than open his eyes and gaze uncomprehendingly at Dean, but Dean thinks it's better than nothing. His wings are clean and seem to be healing – though the golden-tipped feathers are still ragged and broken in places – and he finally stopped shivering on and off the night before.

Dean's taken to staying on the floor in the guest room – partly because it's the room he was using anyway, before Gabriel was so unceremoniously dropped in his lap, but mostly because he figures it's easier to be right there in case Gabriel needs something. It's not that he _cares_ , really. It's just for convenience.

He spends almost a week trying to tell himself that.

Two days after Gabriel wakes up for the first time, he finally looks at Dean with recognition, and something in the hunter's chest eases a little.

It's another full day before Gabriel tries to speak, and then, the only words he manages to mumble out, with a voice that sounds like sandpaper on tree bark, are, "Goddamn Winchesters."

It almost – _almost_ – gets Dean to smile.

From there, it's only a short time before Gabriel starts staying awake for longer periods of time, and while they never speak of anything important – Hell, death, the apocalypse, their brothers – he does begin to carry full conversations with Dean for minutes at a time. Dean uses these opportunities to get Gabriel to eat, even though he's not really sure the archangel needs food, and to quietly assess Gabriel's mental stability, although really he's the _last_ person who should be judging something like that.

Gabriel never asks why he's here, or why Dean's taking care of him, or why he's so weak, or how he's even alive. Dean's grateful, because he can't give answers he doesn't have.

By the time Gabriel can stand again – slowly, and with Dean right there to offer his help if necessary – it's been ten days since he was brought here, and Dean has stopped questioning Castiel's motives.

He's still a fucked-up _mess_ of a hunter. But damn it, despite his best intentions, he gives a shit about whether or not Gabriel is okay. And he knows enough to know that's a big deal.

Lisa makes it a point to check in on Dean regularly and keep Ben away from the guest room, those first ten days. After, when Gabriel finally starts being able to navigate stairs again, she always greets him with a smile and a plate of food, never comments on his massive wings or their tattered state, and spends a lot of time engaging him in idle chitchat while Dean helps Ben with homework or works on the truck in the driveway.

By the time Gabriel's time with them hits the two-week mark, Dean is starting to feel a familiar itch. He's growing impatient with the small things that make up living a suburban lifestyle, and he's craving the freedom of an open road, the adrenaline rush that comes from a good hunt. He can still barely think Sam's name, but the things he thought he'd never want to look at again because of the reminder they'd represent – the Impala, a cheap motel room, greasy food at greasier diners – Dean _misses_ those things.

And when Lisa asks him the next day, when she looks him in the eye and says, "You're not staying, are you?" he can't bring himself to lie to her.

She looks disappointed, but not surprised, and more importantly, not hurt. "At least wait until your friend is a little more healed up, huh?"

"Course I will," Dean promises. "Lisa…"

She presses a finger to his mouth and shakes her head, smiling gently at him. "Don't apologize," she tells him. "You're not meant for this life, I get that. Go be a hero. I'll explain to Ben, after you leave."

It's a shame, because Dean really thinks that in another life, he could so easily fall in love with this woman. And with her son. Maybe even with this whole lifestyle he's never known before.

It takes him five days to finally work up to telling Gabriel he's thinking about leaving. Gabriel cocks his head, his eyes far too understanding for Dean's taste, and asks if Dean would mind having a partner for a while.

Dean doesn't answer him right away, but a couple days later, when two weeks with Gabriel has turned into three and the archangel is beginning to show the same signs of restlessness that Dean is, he gives in.

Gabriel is still weak, his grace fragile to the point where he hardly dares use his powers, and Dean knows he's even managed to grow attached to Lisa and Ben by now. But the very moment Dean asks if he's ready to go, Gabriel fixes him with those tawny eyes and says, "Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean whips the tarp off the Impala with flourish before backing his girl out of the garage and into the driveway for the first time since he arrived here. A new sense of purpose settles over him like a heavy blanket as Gabriel climbs into the passenger seat – the place that until this moment has only ever belonged to Sam. And maybe it's that purpose churning in his gut that keeps the pain at bay, keeps the memories locked in a box where they can't reach him.

It's dawn, the sky just beginning to lighten over the line of trees and houses behind them. Dean had been hoping the early hour would be enough for him and Gabriel to sneak away unnoticed, but he can see that luck, as usual, isn't with him. Lisa stands in the doorway, leaning against it with her arms crossed and that familiar small smile on her face, and when she sees him looking, she lifts her hand in a gesture that's half salute, half wave.

There's a note he left her, hidden in the back of a drawer that she probably won't get around to cleaning for a week or two. It doesn't say half of what he wishes he could tell her, but he hopes it will at least be enough to convey how grateful he is. She deserves better than him, always has, and maybe she'll be able to find it now.

Beside him, Gabriel waves cheerfully, blowing her a kiss that Dean can see has her laughing. Dean gives her as large a smile as he can manage – which isn't much, and probably doesn't resemble a smile at all, but he's guessing he gets points for trying – and backs out of the driveway and onto the road.

Finally.

***

They drive straight through the day, stopping only for food and gas. Their first stop is going to be Bobby's, because Dean won't get back into the game without letting the older man know. He relies on Bobby for help too often. And it's something he'd rather do in person than over the phone, given the way they left things.

Gabriel stays mostly silent during the long drive, staring out the window at the landscape flying by or leaning against it as he dozes. Dean knows he's still pretty weak, and Gabriel even told him before they left that hiding his wings from sight was going to take a good chunk of his energy. Dean catches himself wishing there was something he could do to help, and it makes him blink in perplexed bemusement to realize Gabriel's maybe gotten a little more under his skin than he realized.

He doesn't know if it's Gabriel himself, or just the idea of not having to be alone, but Dean's actually grateful for the archangel's presence.

Huh.

Dean glances over to where Gabriel has his head tilted back against his seat as he snores his way through the last leg of their trip. The corner of his lips twitch into the beginnings of a real, honest-to-God smile.


	4. Chapter 4

They've been back in the game for a couple solid weeks now, and Dean's surprised by how well it's working. Gabriel's getting stronger every day, his smile coming more easily and his banter taking that edge it's always had in the past when dealing with the Winchesters.

They started small, a couple simple hauntings, both pretty close to Bobby's place. Dean wouldn’t even admit it under torture, but it's a hard thing, this day-to-day hunting lifestyle. After everything that's happened, it's possible he's still feeling a little gun-shy about tackling the heavier cases.

Bobby hasn't said anything about it, and if Gabriel knows what Dean's thinking or feeling, he's not bringing it up either. Dean is grateful.

Tonight, though, they're between hunts, camped out on the hood of the Impala, drinking beers and staring up at the overcast sky. It's after midnight, but neither of them is in any rush to get back to the impersonal motel room. Tomorrow they're setting out for Minnesota – the farthest they've strayed from South Dakota yet, but Dean thinks he's probably ready – and what looks like a wendigo. But for right now, there's Gabriel's quiet companionship and a cool breeze and a starless night.

"Used to do this all the time with Sammy." Dean speaks before he realizes he's opened his mouth, and even when it registers enough to catch him by surprise, even when the familiar pain digs into his chest, he finds he doesn't regret it.

He _wants_ to be able to think of his baby brother, wants to remember the good things without resenting the memories. And Sam would want him to.

"Yeah?" Gabriel responds. In his peripheral vision, Dean can see the archangel shoot a quick, curious glance over, one eyebrow raised, but he doesn't turn to look at Gabriel directly. "Would you believe me if I told you I used to do this with my little brother too?"

Dean quirks a small smile, taking a swig of his beer. "Not Cas?" he asks, amused at the thought.

"The very same." Gabriel laughs, leaning back on his elbows. "Everything that kid knew about earth before he met you, he knew 'cause of me." The smile he's wearing dims and Gabriel shrugs a little. "Course, that was before I left."

Now Dean does look over. "You ever regret it? Leaving?"

There's a long pause. "Every day," Gabriel finally answers. "If only because Castiel never should have been left alone. He should've been able to count on me."

Without thinking about it, Dean reaches out and squeezes his companion's shoulder. "He turned out all right either way."

"Yeah, he kinda did, didn't he?" Gabriel shakes his head, looking away like it will hide his proud little smile.. "Guess I should be grateful." His eyes find Dean's again. "What about you?" he asks. "Any big regrets with…?" He lets the questions trail off, like he's unsure if he's allowed to say Sam's name.

Dean swallows hard. "I never should've brought him back into this life," he says, then immediately reconsiders. "No. I should've gone with him when he left it. I should've followed him to California. If it was a choice between him and my dad, it was always him, _always_ , and I should've remembered that and stuck by him." He'd never say this to anyone else, and he can't really believe he's even saying it to Gabriel. "I should've done everything I could to make sure Sammy got the life he wanted, before it was too late."

Gabriel doesn't respond with words, but he shifts closer and nudges his shoulder up against Dean's, a silent show up understanding.

They both go back to staring at the sky, and if Dean feels the soft brush of an unseen wing curling around him, neither of them says a word about it.


End file.
